starspray | Til We're on the Other Side - One

Fandom: Tolkien
Rating: T
Characters: Finwe, Original Characters
Warnings: Character Death
Summary: In the dark woods near the Waters of Awakening, Finwë's brothers are taken. In Valinor, when the Trees wither, Finwë is slain. In the Fourth Age, things take place long thought impossible.
Note: This fic takes place in my meanwhile the world goes on 'verse, but can be read standalone. The last chapter will contain spoilers for the end of A Hundred Miles Through the Desert.
Also written for the SWG's Everyman challenge for the prompt: "So it came to pass, some years ere the coming of Oromë, that if any of the Elves strayed far abroad, alone or few together, they would often vanish, and never return; and the Quendi said that the Hunter had caught them, and they were afraid." - The Silmarillion, "Of the Coming of the Elves and the Captivity of Melkor"

AO3 | SWG

So listen to the darkness, listen to the patterns
Listen to the breathing sea
Listen to the colors, carry them inside you
They will bring you back to me
Listen to the sirens, listen to the heartbeat
Listen to the turning tide
Listen to the murmurs, carry them inside you
‘til we’re on the other side
In the breaking light
- “The Breaking Light” by Vienna Teng

Loosen your hands, let go and say good-bye.
Let the stars and songs go.
- “Stars, Songs, Faces” by Carl Sandburg

- -

It was very dark under the trees. They had dropped their torches in their flight, and now the only light came from the stars that filtered through the thick boughs overhead, dim and wavering. Urwë tripped over a root, caught himself, and scooped up his brother, who was nearly too big to be carried like that now. It was only the second time Finwë had come out foraging with them, and of course this would happen—of course the Hunter would come, the Dark Rider on his steed with its terrible, heavy footfalls, and the deep-throated laughter that held no mirth, only malice.

“Urwë, what’s—”

“Shh!” Urwë slid down an embankment and ducked under the roots of a tree that grew out of it, ancient and enormous. The space beneath was almost a small cave carved out of the bank, the soil damp and cool under them and at their backs, crumbling a little over their shoulders as they pressed into it. He curled around Finwë, pressing a hand over his mouth. “Be silent,” he breathed, as softly as possible, and felt Finwë nod. He uncovered Finwë’s mouth and pressed him against his chest instead. He could feel Finwë trembling under his hands. They both hardly dared to breathe as they heard the footfalls of the Hunter approaching.

Please, please, please, Urwë thought, praying to the stars or to the Creator that the Elders spoke of, or whatever might be listening. Please don’t let him find us.

At first the Hunter had been no more than a story, just a whisper, a rumor that mothers scolded their children for spreading, saying there were many dangers in the wide world and if someone ventured too far and did not come back—that was terrible, but accidents happened, and there were many beasts that might hunt the Quendi as well as other creatures. Then more started to go missing, and from closer to home. The Elders had since forbidden anyone to venture forth alone, and so some had come back—alive, together, but wounded or with tales of the Dark Rider on his fell steed with burning eyes, of the Hunter whose darts found their marks through even the deepest of shadows. Some had perished from those wounds, which festered with poisons none of their healers recognized or knew how to treat.

Most who the Hunter found, though, just never came back.

Please let us make it back. Please, please, please.

The footsteps halted far too close to their hiding place. Urwë tightened his arms around Finwë. The darkness deepened around them, and he felt a chill creep down his spine. He wondered if this was what Morwë had seen before he had vanished with their father. He wondered if Lindo, too, had been taken, or if he had managed to escape in another direction.

He wondered what their mother would think if none of them came back.

Slowly, the darkness receded, as did the footsteps of the Hunter. Urwë did not move for a long time. Neither did Finwë. Only when the usual sounds of the wood started to return did Urwë exhale, and loosen his grip. He closed his eyes as they burned with the tears of sudden certainty that Lindo would not be returning home. And in spite of the reprieve they had been given he felt, also, that he would not see the shining waters of Cuiviénen under the stars either.

But in his mind’s eye he glimpsed, as though he were dreaming, Finwë grown and striding fearlessly forward through the twilit world, spear in hand, a great host of their people behind him. A strange light burned in his eyes—he was fierce and proud, and Urwë wished, desperately, that he might live to see his little brother grow into someone so great.

“When we leave this place,” he whispered into Finwë’s ear, “we need to run, and you cannot look back. Understand?”

“What about Lindo?” Finwë whispered back. He would be strong and fierce, someday, but he was still young now, all awkward limbs that he hadn’t yet grown into, with a voice that cracked, not yet come into the power he would one day wield in his songs.

“Let me worry about Lindo,” Urwë said, voice breaking on their brother’s name. “You just run, all right?” He leaned down to press their foreheads together. “Do not be afraid,” he whispered. “The Hunter will not catch you—he’ll never even come close, Finwë. You’ll make it home and you’ll grow up to do incredible things.”

“Urwë—”

“I love you. Don’t look back. Promise me.”

“But—”

“Promise, Finwë.”

“I promise,” Finwë whispered.

Urwë waited a little longer, until he could be sure that the way was clear. Then he carefully unfolded himself and slipped out from under the roots, holding tightly to Finwë’s hand as he crawled after him. They paused for a moment, listening hard. Then Urwë rose to his feet and urged Finwë ahead. They ran, silent through the trees, passing through patches of dim starlight and at times pausing in the shadows, listening hard.

It was when more familiar trees opened up ahead of them, growing wider apart to let in more starlight, where well-trodden paths could be found, that something crashed through the brush behind them. Something snarled, almost sounding like speech, and Urwë cried, “Run, Finwë!” Finwë obeyed immediately, and true to his promise he didn’t look back, running ahead as swift and light-footed as a deer. As Urwë ran after him he fumbled at his belt for his knife, but it fell to the ground when something slammed into him from behind. As he fell he saw Finwë slow, but only for a second before he sped up again, disappearing down the path toward the way home. Urwë twisted, kicking and trying to hit back the thing that had him, biting back a cry as teeth sank into his shoulder, and something else sliced down his side, leaving a trail of burning pain behind that spread until he couldn’t move any of his limbs to even try to fight back anymore.

The last thing he saw before everything went dark was the stars, glinting in between the boughs high over his head.